


Clockwork Lullaby

by Starkissed1



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, College AU, Eventual Smut, Frigga Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Nerdy References, Odin's A+ Parenting, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, non-binary!Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-08-28 05:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkissed1/pseuds/Starkissed1
Summary: Thor enjoys working at the Clockwork Lullaby, it's an easy job and the tips add up.  He never expected to be beset by memories. It's not every day that personal history walks in balanced on spike heels and draped in gold cloth that shines on the dance floor. He never expected the opportunity to get to know his once-brotherquite thoroughlyanew.





	1. Turn the Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winding gears is where we start. What do you call a meet cute when you chased dragons together as boys? What do you say when memories of children do not add up to grown adults?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from "Music Box" by Jorge Luis Borges
> 
> from what lost and rediscovered afternoon  
> do they come to me in this remote future?  
> Who knows? No matter. When I hear it play  
> I am. I want to be. I bleed away.
> 
> o si prefieres, desde el original, "Caja de Música"
> 
> de qué perdida y rescatada tarde,  
> llegan a mí, su porvenir remoto?  
> No lo sabré. No importa. En esa música  
> yo soy. Yo quiero ser. Yo me desangro.

Thor saw her come through the club's door. Only a blind man could have missed her and even he was likely to sense the disturbance created in the crowd. 

She stood head and shoulders above the rest of her party. While her height drew your attention, such a simple feature could not keep it. Her movements were sultry promises that sparked imaginations across the dance floor. 

It was the black shorts, cradling round cheeks, their curves not quite covered.

It was the fishnet that ended in leather just above her knees, the boots stretching to spike heels.

It was the metallic top that was all loose straps draping from breastbone to hips, each turn revealing flashes of skin and lace--inviting view and obscuring it in the same heartbeat. The back straps tied in a single bunch, shoulder blades bared, the skin of her waist exposed to a lover’s hold.

It was the D-ring hanging from two fingers’ width of black leather encircling her neck. 

Smokey-lidded eyes scanned the dark room, Thor felt her gaze land on him. Those whispered promises grabbed the hairs on the back of his neck. They offered depths of decadence and a painful demise. Thor shook his head to clear it and was certain somebody was in for it tonight. She was hunting.

Thor went back to work. He had been tending bar and bouncing at the Clockwork Lullaby for several years. It was an easy college job and certainly more fun than the football club that was constantly recruiting him. Playing the good bro and the flirt came naturally. Both men and women reacted to an easy smile and some of each leaned over the bar for a better look when Thor turned to get something from the bottom shelf. His tip jar was always full.

When the club was packed, the line around the bar was always two or three deep. Yet, even that crowd could not obscure the Huntress. Thor caught glimpses of her for hours. She danced with men, she danced with women, she danced alone. She let the music take her in the way few could. She had a connection with the bass that demanded reverence. Worship was the only appropriate response. The strobe painted her twists with a gilt edge, stolen moments etched into your brain.

Her path to the side of the club was focused, she did not consider any of the other stations. Thor continued to serve those in front of him, half of his attention on the way she navigated the crowd. She slipped between and among, a gentle touch here, a sly smile there. People stopped for her, forgoing the standard angry response at someone else in their space. Eyes followed her as she passed, sentences interrupted until the next layer of crowd closed in. She did not have to wait in line. As she stepped closer to the bar the crowd parted, whether from awe or apprehension, Thor did not know. She radiated such power that Thor suspected she rarely waited long. 

Thor was looking up. Perhaps without the heels, she would be about his height. At Thor’s 6’3”, that was positively Amazonian. Whomever she shared a bed with was a lucky bastard. Deep red lips part, “Good eve, kind sir. It seems I need a drink.” 

Thor’s eyes widen. That phrase. Where did she get that exact phrase? And the intonation? He looks closer, the laughter in her eyes finally brings things together. It has been years. Years since Frigga packed up her son and left Odin. Years since Thor sat across a grid with his step-brother, adventurers entering a tavern, preteens assuming ‘adult’ mannerisms to begin a quest. Every game started with the same exchange. 

Loki appears to be ticking off seconds on his fingers until Thor replies, “The mead is good, the spirits stronger.”

Laughing, Loki releases the three extended fingers and orders a half-dozen Lemon Drops. He adds, “spirits are best for a night of mystery.” 

Thor prepares the order robotically and slides into the role, “Mystery? You search for what time has lost. Only the most tenacious find what they seek.” The adventure phrasing is out of place in the neon and glittering lights, bass thumping through their bones. Incongruity aside, Loki nods at the banality like it is wisdom. Thor is baffled that recognition took him so long. Each move is obviously his once-brother: the turn of wrist, the ducked chin, dark tresses falling on his cheek, loose from where he put them up earlier.

Loki gathers the shot glasses in long, delicate fingers. Thor presses into the playful memory, “What’s your name stranger?”

“Loki Mystra’s Weaver,” the response comes through half-closed lashes. Thor grows a new belief in magic as he watches Loki turn--a tongue wets lips, a hip cocks to the side allowing a sliver of waist to tempt caress--the mantle of predator assumed once more. She is the Huntress returning to a vastly different game.

“Luck be with you.” Thor blesses her departure.

Half a step out, she stops and looks over her shoulder, “It already is.” Her lipstick shines and she blows a kiss his way. Thor struggles to align the two: the memory of a fresh-faced, gangly Loki he once knew and this creature of magic and music. The one whose every breath is now dedicated to entrancing weaker wills. The pull deep in his gut suggests he lacks immunity. 

**********

Usually, Thor joins a handful of employees and regulars after closing on a Saturday. There is a camaraderie that happens at 3:30 am that is unlike any other. Today, there are plans to cook late-night pancakes and hold a Mario Kart tournament. “Blue shell,” someone yells from behind him. Thor turns to spot the culprit and is smacked in the face with a bar towel. Thor’s sheepish grin covers his momentary grimace, “not tonight guys. With these reflexes, I'd just be an oil spot on the Rainbow Bridge.” There are some grumbles and Thor waves them off. He has already clocked out and heads for the door.

***********  
He has not thought about Loki and Frigga in a long time. Tonight, he can think of nothing else. They moved in when Thor was 7 years old. Loki was a few years younger. Thor doesn’t remember many specifics about the years before they came, but afterwards, there was just so much more. Frigga was a whirlwind and she made everything brilliant--more colorful, more noise, more fun. Activities that would have have earned him lectures from his father, were now permitted by Frigga and doubly so if he had Loki with him. By that measure, Thor was with Loki as often as possible. 

In the beginning, all of their activities were overseen by Frigga. She drew them along an imaginary path where there were dragons, fae and adventures for curious boys. They spent hours chasing the tracks of rabbits and squirrels because those animals knew where the fairies lived. And if you could find a fairy, they would grant you a wish--if you traded work for it. Thor now knows that she taught them skills and manners in her story-telling. Every time they came in muddy and torn she asked how they behaved in the fae world and insisted they perform the same niceties in hers. They learned how to cook, clean, sew and rebuild broken things from her gentle instruction. 

Loki was well-versed in his mother’s ways and threw himself into the same imagination business she ran. There were costumes hiding in their closets that Thor never would have assembled. His little brother had a plan for everything. They were knights set to save a kingdom, or destroy one--with Loki which task they might undertake changed by the day. Their yellow lab, Max, was often recruited to be their pack-mule to carry Frigga’s neatly wrapped snacks to the back yard. They lived a million lifetimes in that yard and Loki had a tale for each. 

Loki was his most inventive when he needed to give excuses. Frigga would listen attentively, laughing and nodding as he carried on. Then, she’d touch her finger to the tip of his nose, “just checking to see if it grew.” With an uncanny degree of precision, Frigga knew what they were up to regardless of how Loki spun it.

The time Thor broke his rib falling out of the oak tree, it had been Loki’s idea to race to the highest branch that would support them both. He had plenty of reason to want to make excuses. Loki spent the entire car ride to the hospital babbling about discovering a garter snake that he convinced Thor to pick up. When the snake lunged toward Loki, he had pushed quickly to get behind Thor, knocking Thor down onto some deadwood in the process. It hurt Thor to breathe, but that did not stop him from huffing when Loki noted that the snake was unharmed. His brother was quite contrite about the whole affair. Frigga just cocked an eyebrow at Loki’s story and remarked that she had never seen a snake climbing the oak tree.

As they got older, their adventures gained more structure. There were a couple of years their parents tried to keep them in the same activities: soccer, dance, T-ball, piano lessons. Eventually, the boys picked their own specialties. Loki stayed in dance, Thor in soccer. They both did the piano recital every spring though. When they were home, most of their unstructured time was still spent together. One of the neighbor kids told them about Dungeons and Dragons, he played with his dad. The more they heard, the more they wanted to play. It was a great day when Frigga came home with 3 oversized books and suggested which classes she thought they would like. Soon, there was game mat permanently unrolled in their basement.

Loki Mystra’s Weaver. Mystra had been a favorite of his brother, who played a number of wizards, sorcerers and rogues. Thor leaned towards paladins and clerics, though the occasional bard and barbarian made its appearance. Now, in the dark of early morning, Thor is reminded that Loki played exclusively female characters. He had not thought much of it then, Thor had a handful of female characters too. It was not the same. 

Of course, it was that kind of difference that ripped through the family. Odin had ‘ideas’ about what was proper behavior for his boys. Loki’s long hair, dance practice, painted nails and his desire to wear make-up were at the top of his father’s “can’t be right” list. That list was not enumerated for the brothers, but late at night, when the whispers got loud, each and every one of those behaviors were denounced. Usually, Thor and Loki could not hear Frigga’s hrrumph of dismissal, but they knew she protected them. However, even she had limits. 

When Thor was in 8th grade and Loki in 6th, the school dress code outlawed shorts. Skirts were allowed, but not shorts. Quickly, a protest was planned. The boys and their friends changed at school. Parents were called. Their father had nothing to say to the boys on the drive home. They had been suspended for the day for refusing to change into the pants he brought. He went to his office and they avoided speaking to him until after Frigga got home. Odin explained the day to her and the school’s punishment. The boys caught the glitter in her eye when she turned to them, “what about tomorrow?” Loki responded, “my skirt’s still clean.” Thor nodded in agreement. 

Odin's face turned a rather dark shade of red. Even now, just the memory hits like a punch to the gut. What exactly was ~~said~~ screamed has been lost. There was a lot about: ‘no son of mine’, ‘your crazy stories’, and acting like ‘real men’. Frigga countered, pleading about ridiculous masculinity, self-concept, love and more. Thor and Loki had backed up until they were stuck in the corner of the room. Loki had grabbed his hand, he was shaking. Frigga always talked his father down, this time should have been no different.

Silence eventually filled the room. From that moment, Thor can detail each second. Tears falling, Frigga stared at Odin. His face was still splotchy red with each breath coming hard. In the pseudo-calm voice that Frigga only used when the boys were in trouble, she asked, “that’s how it is?” His father nodded once and she turned to the boys. She took Loki by the hand. In less than an hour, suitcases were packed and they were gone.

Later that week, Frigga and Loki picked up Thor and they went to the park. Frigga explained that they were going to her sister’s a couple of states over. She talked about love and protection. She apologized, not for love she said, “never apologize for love.” Thor cannot pull the entire conversation from his memory. There were tears. He remembers begging them to not leave him alone. She said she was proud of him, the great Knight Thor (she had not called him that in years). She claimed she knew he would grow into a wonderful man. They made arrangements for phone calls and emails. When she dropped him off at the house, she hugged him tightly. Thor’s eyes flooded again when he realized the wet spots on his shirt were dripping from her cheeks.

Initially, they stayed in regular contact due to Frigga’s efforts. But he was hurt and angry. He stopped returning her phone calls and her messages. The last time they spoke, Frigga asked if he needed some time without her intruding. “That’s how it is!” he spit back at her and hung up. For a long time, the shadows under Thor’s eyes were an echo of Odin’s. Years later, he called. Harsh tones jangled before a woman’s impartial voice stated, “The number you have tried to reach is out of service.”

Thor can hear her soft laughter and picture the faint lines that came out when she scrunched her eyes. Heat rises in his cheeks. He didn’t ask. He didn’t ask about the last decade. He didn’t ask about Frigga. He didn’t ask about Loki. Not that he really wanted to answer the corresponding questions about his father, but he now fervently hopes that he will get another chance.


	2. Somewhere, Over the Rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With or without a wizard, a decade lost can be found. Time is pieced together with insecurities and wishes, and the words don't always fit. Though, truly, is that much different than living those ten years?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Over the Rainbow" by Israel Kamakawiwoʻole
> 
> Someday I wish upon a star  
> Wake up where the clouds are far behind me  
> Where trouble melts like lemon drops  
> High above the chimney top  
> That's where you'll find me
> 
> Oh, somewhere over the rainbow  
> Way up high  
> And the dreams that you dare to  
> Why oh, why can't I?

It was logical that Loki would stand out wherever he was. Granted, he would not be dressed for dancing at all times, but he was still over six foot tall and Loki did not know the meaning of subtle. Thor forewent his usual study groups and spent all his free time at the U. Well, he was outside the Student Union building actually. This was the most central area on campus. From here, Thor could see the main library doors and the Communications building. Thousands of students went through this area daily. 

Minutes became hours, Thor kept to the strictest interpretation of his schedule. Days passed.

He worked the club again on Wednesday and Thursday. Loki did not show. Thor had no classes on Friday, so he got a large coffee and was outside the Union at 7 a.m. A couple hours of restless sleep were all he was going to get anyway. He chased the hollow echoes in his brain with caffeine.

He had missed his opportunity. Loki was probably just visiting. He would never get to see him again. Or Frigga. He had a family once. Once was all he was going to get. He needed to hit something. Going to the gym was off the table. He would miss his opportunity. The loop started over. 

Thor used both hands to hold his cup still so he could take a sip. His eyes scanned near and far, coffee sitting sour in his stomach.

**********  
The rest of his 8th grade year was awful. Yes, he was on the soccer team again. But his family was not in the stands. Even when his father came, it was not the same. There were no dance recitals for the holidays and they did not even get out the decorations. Odin said they had no reason to decorate. They were not religious and they did not have anyone to impress. “Anymore” he should have said. “They didn’t have anyone to impress anymore.” His father took him to Grandma’s on Christmas. But even Bestla’s Best Apple Pie tasted dry that day. 

It was early spring when Thor came home to ‘the talk.’ His father was at the kitchen table, there were two mugs of hot chocolate. One was partially gone. Thor could taste the acrid liquor in the chocolate scented air--rum maybe? Odin drank more often than he used to. He motioned for Thor to sit. Setting his backpack against a table leg, he pulled out a chair. There were little marshmallows in the cocoa. They bounced when he bumped the table, fluffy little icebergs awaiting a careless ship. There had been a call from the school. Thor was failing classes. His father talked about how things were different now, they had to make it work, they had to be men. He was told to dry his eyes. They could not wish for what they no longer had. The King men were strong, they would make do. Men take care of their responsibilities and they find a focus. Thor is positive he answered, “yes, sir” at most of the necessary spots. He left the table when his father was done. Marshmallows had melted to foam in the untouched mug.

The next week Thor was enrolled in a boxing club. His father told him that the activity would give him the ‘focus’ he needed. Thor did what his father told him to do. Thor did not care if he was at the gym or at home. He was just going through the motions anyways. It was Heimdall who convinced him to do more. Coach H. started with small corrections and applauded Thor when he incorporated the advice. Coach would let him pound on the heavy bag until he could not raise his arms anymore. Eventually, Thor found he could focus this wild energy that was tearing him apart. It did not matter that his father had been right. It was Heimdall who had helped him figure it out. Coach also agreed with his father that Thor should try out for the football team. Thor only did so because Coach said he could come to the gym anytime so long as he was passing his classes. If Heimdall said that the opportunities were worth it, then they were. 

***********  
Those opportunities got him here, didn’t they? Not here to the Union, but to the university, yes. Coach H. was a good man, he should go visit him the next time he went home. Thor had been recruited by multiple schools. People talk about quarterbacks, but when the lineman protecting the QB gets as much press, recruiters come knocking. The scholarships were enticing and Thor had multiple options. This allowed him to select the degree program he wanted. Football was a means to an end. It was not what he wanted to do forever. 

Forever changes so quickly, though, and silently. In a quiet moment, dreams end and the world continues without a second glance at your loss: the silence of packed suitcases; the silence following the snap of bone; the silence after spike heels disappear in the crowd.

He gazes steadily over the white plastic lid on his cup. Thor wonders how he missed this opportunity. 

A tennis shoe barely kicks at his boot: black running shoes; black socks; long, smooth legs; black shorts; black shirt; black hair in a ponytail. The sun was in Thor’s eyes. 

“Thor?” Loki shifts to block the brightness. He is holding one of his earbuds in his hand.

Thor jumps to standing, almost knocking into the man in front of him. “Loki!” He fumbles with what to do next, flapping his arms, eventually settling them against his sides. His coffee sloshes in the cup.

“Yeah, you don’t want to hug me right now, I’m all sweaty.” 

Thor takes a slight step backwards, ostensibly agreeing. He launches into his semi-prepared speech. “You surprised me the other day. I want to hear about what you’re up to, how you’ve been,” Thor looks towards the earbud still in Loki’s hand. “How Frigga has been...all of it!” Loki drops the earbud, allowing it to just dangle, taking hold of his phone instead. Thor makes eye contact once more, “Come, let me get you a coffee and you can fill me in.” 

“I’m fine. Mom is fine. Though, I need to shower first and I have an 11:00 class. What’s your number?” He selects something on his phone. “We can have lunch after class. I’ll text you?”

Loki's nails were painted emerald with gold accents. Thor watches them shimmer while he creates a new contact entry. The phone in his front pocket vibrates causing the lightsaber noise to muffle. Loki breaks into a wide smile. In a perfect Yoda voice, he mutters, “your weapons. You will not need them.”

Before Thor can respond, Loki waves and is continuing his run. Thor's palm slides up his right cheek and he draws a deep breath. Perhaps there is time for a nap. 

***********

Thor groaned when the phone vibrated on the table top from under several sheets of notes.

It was almost 1:30. After Loki had left the courtyard, Thor had gotten a pastry, dumped the rest of his coffee, and realized he was not going to be able to sleep. There was a buzz in his veins that was partly caffeine and partly that mix of possibility and nerves that had been brewing in his head all week. So, a seat in the library had been his friend and he actually got some work done. He had a paper due on Monday that he had not started. Some research and notes later, he could finally see the way it was going to come together and the phone buzzed, interrupting.

Loki’s name and a pizza emoji stood out in a bright white bubble on the Wonder Woman lockscreen. Thor-the-Academic took an immediate back seat to Thor-the-actual-person. 

“Ruffino’s?” press send. The restaurant was just off-campus and ran a lunch time pizza buffet all week, from 10:30-4 it was an easy place to stop between classes and other tasks. At this time of day, they might even get a table.

Vibration. Smiley face.

Packing up his papers and books, Thor instructed the queasiness in his stomach to settle down.

**********

Thor squinted after coming in, taking a moment to adjust to the dark interior, when motion drew his attention. Loki stood to wave him over. Thor could read half his T-shirt before he got close, “Come to the Dark Side”. Thor grinned because he did not have to see the subsequent, “We have cookies.”

“Great shirt,” Thor barely finished the statement and Loki was pulling him into a hug like he’s family. Thor is surprised how true that feels. 

Loki smiles wide as he steps back, “I’m so glad to see you! It’s been forever! You look so much like your father though. That’s how I recognized you in the club, standing over behind the bar, moving faster than someone of your size should move…” Loki pats his shoulder as they sit.

“It’s the boxing,” comes the response that feels almost like an interruption. Loki always ran on when he talked, one had to push a little to participate in the conversation. 

“Boxing, as in pummeling the other guy until he can’t stand up? Vicious!” Loki squeezes his arm with a slightly disturbing half-reverence, half-mocking look. “I expect your opponents rarely get up.” Loki goes on about how fighting seems so similar to dancing. He speaks about choreographed vs. impromptu and the merits of dancing/fighting for yourself or for a crowd. Loki is here at university pursuing dual degrees in theater management and performance.

Thor is happy to listen, he occasionally gets a word in edgewise. In the corner of his brain, he notes how familiar this feels and simultaneously, how odd. There! Loki brushes a loose strand over his ear. That’s a motion that Thor recognizes. When did Loki’s eyes become so green? Or his lashes so dark? Oh! His brother who once fumbled with eyeliner and mascara, got good at it. Thor grins. Loki is fiddling with a paper napkin, folding and refolding. Thor recalls that behavior as nerves.

Thor reaches across the table, setting two fingers on a slimmer wrist. Loki stops folding and draws a breath. “I’m glad to see you too, Loki.” Loki ducks his chin.

“Mom still talks about you.” Loki raises his gaze to Thor’s. “Can I tell her that you’re here?”

Thor can hear his own pulse echoing in the silence. How is that even a question? He speaks as if yanking the phrase free from a slammed door, with careful focus and then all at once, “Ofcourseyoucan,” he swallows. “I would like that.”

“What do you want me to tell her?”

“About what?” Although he has had ten years to think, Thor does not have a general list entitled ‘What to tell Frigga.’ He had not made a plan of what to say to Loki either, when he decided to wait outside the U. He had every intent of creating a plan, but everything he practiced, each conversation that played out while he waited, was not good enough.

“About what you’re doing now?”

That he can run with. Thor explains his college route to ‘now.’ The football scholarship that paid for his first two years until he broke his ankle in that third season. The loss of the scholarship was the impetus to switch majors from teaching to marketing. Loki raises an eyebrow and Thor considers not answering the implied question. Although, of all people, Loki would understand. 

“Dad said he wouldn’t pay for a useless degree.”

“He wants you to run the business?” Thor nods. King Real Estate was his father’s pride and joy. Specializing in commercial property, he liked to call himself “King of the Nine” for the city and surrounding towns he helped shape. “Do YOU want to run the business?”

“I’m good with people. I get sales. Sure,” Thor shrugs. Loki looks like he wants to say something. Thor already knows, he has said all those things to himself. “I'm almost finished with the degree. It will be a good job.”

Loki rolls his eyes. Thor has seen that before. Frigga was a master eye-roller, she knew exactly when to hide the motion and exactly when to capitalize on it. Thor wonders if Loki is now a master. “My father aside, how is Frigga? What is she doing now?”

Loki lights up. Thor gets ten years’ worth of gossip and promotions. Frigga easily had made herself useful at her new school: from chemistry teacher to department head to principal. “The only thing worse than having your mom for a teacher is having your mom for a principal,” Loki laments. There is family gossip too. All of Frigga’s extended family lives in the same area, so Loki dished on weddings and divorces and babies. Thor rolls his shoulders, willing the tightness of envy to go away. Grandma Bestla is lovely and sweet, but most of his family left with Frigga and Loki.

The server is at their table, her shift is ending and she needs to close out their check. Thor looks at his phone, they have been there for hours - the dinner crowd is starting to fill the seats. He quickly pulls his wallet, doubles the amount of their bill and tells her to keep the change.

“Thank you, kind Sir.” Loki’s overly formal statement is paired with a broad grin, glittering eyes and an actual bow. 

Thor blushes, he just covered the check and did not even ask. “It was nice to see you, and to catch up.” Loki hugs him again. It is not so surprising this time around.

“See you tonight.” With another wave, Loki is gone once more.

***********

Clockwork was full that evening. Thor did not see Loki arrive, but when the crowd parted as she approached, he had to pause with the rest of the mob. She was dazzling. Ringlets framed her face, done up in softer shades than last week. Her purple dress gathered at a collar both front and back, baring shoulders. Loki wore golden armbands around the upper portion of each arm, more bracelets at her wrists. It was sweet, until you realized this was another guise for the Huntress. The slits that rose to the top of her thighs on both sides of that long purple skirt, were the first clue. They drew attention to her stride, to the spike-heeled boots. And then, when she caught you staring, she held you with her glare. There was no escape.

Thor fills her order, chatting a little about lunch. He does not pay attention to the guy standing next to her, staring. Loki absolutely refused to acknowledge that behavior. When she leaves, she blows Thor a kiss. The guy turns to Thor, “I would give my left nut for that kiss.”

“Creepy, dude. She’d likely kill you before you could make such an offer.” Thor passes the guy his beer.

Stepping into dead-man-walking’s spot, a redhead in chunky black glasses, sporting tattoos from wrists to shoulders, asks for an Oberon. “How do you know Loki?”

Thor takes a moment at the tap to discard possible responses, too much explanation would be required to call him a brother. “We grew up together. He moved away just before high school. You?” He sets an orange slice on the rim of her glass.

“We’re in the same program. You should know, Loki uses they pronouns now, not she or he.” She pushes up the corner of her glasses before taking her pint.

“Oh,” Thor recognizes the fire in her eyes as she readies for a fight. “Thank you.” 

When he does not argue with her, she looks him up and down. With a smile and a nod, she seems to acknowledge his good sense and leaves his station.

Loki was just Loki. ‘They’ fit, so did ‘she’ and ‘he’. Thor wonders if he should have asked at lunch.


	3. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it better to run towards the memory or away? Or both? Should you bring flowers when your once-brother is on stage? What do you bring to a reunion with your once-mother?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Star" Jane & Ann Taylor
> 
> Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
> How I wonder what you are!  
> Up above the world so high,  
> Like a diamond in the sky.  
> Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
> How I wonder what you are!

It was easy, being with Loki again. As much as they were different people, they still had a lot in common. Their reconnection started with movies. Loki said it was bad form to watch the old _Star Wars_ on your own, so Thor was invited over. There were other favorites neither had seen in forever, so ‘classics night’ became a thing: _The Dark Crystal, The Princess Bride, The Wrath of Khan,_ the animated _Hobbit_ before watching the new versions.

Other friends came to join them. Thor got a real introduction to Verity, the tattooed redhead who stood up for Loki at the club. She could recite the entire “to the pain” scene better than the Dread Pirate Roberts, so that got her extra points in Thor’s book. Verity was into set design and lighting. She would talk for hours about CGI being a supporting element in film construction, not the entire visual. The three spent multiple evenings discussing the design and methodology in Peter Jackson's _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy.

Loki also became a common member of the 3 a.m. after party crew. Thor was the better gamer over all, but Loki beat him at MarioKart every time. Hogun easily adapted to Loki’s snark and their competitive streak. Sif, another bartender at the club and Thor’s roommate, took a little longer. Though, that was really Loki's fault. They had threatened to put Nair in her shampoo bottle after Thor complained about hair balls in the shower. Loki claimed they were just trying to solve the problem once and for all. Mischief aside, Thor suspected that Sif's snide remarks were half-born of jealousy. She got much more comfortable after she started dating someone again. 

Thor even talked to Frigga. Loki face-timed her before a they re-watched _Alien_. She screamed in surprise when both were on screen. Loki had not told Thor what was going on either, but Thor managed not to scream. They shared some general platitudes: nice to see you; it's been so long; how are you? The excitement of surprise that began the conversation did not continue through the silence of not knowing what else to say. 

Even when they were growing up, Loki was the glue that cemented Thor to Frigga. They slid into that role in new ways now. Loki shared new stories, new conversations. They would be on the phone and yell from the other room, "Thor, tell mom I'm fine, she doesn't believe me!" Thor would yell back his response.

One day, Loki casually dropped, "Mom asked if you were dating anyone. I told her you study too much, work too much and just don't have any game."

Thor half-punched their shoulder, "If she were here right now, I'd tell her to check your nose and see if it grew."

"Oh! You are dating someone I don't know about?" They ignored Thor's 'shut up' interruption. "Mom wants to meet them in two weeks when she comes to see us."

"Your mother is coming to the university? why?" Thor swallowed. Those moments of staring at the disconnected phone number echo from years ago. That lonely teenage boy was feeding him excitement and worries.

"Weren't you listening? She's coming to see us. Well, she's coming to see the play, but mostly to see us." Loki grinned like a kid with a hand in the cookie jar, positive that cookie would still be theirs even after a scolding.

*********  
_A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ was on its second showing. It was not opening night, but Frigga could not come until Friday. Thor tugged at the sleeves on his suit jacket. They were not quite long enough, but most items rarely were. He scanned the crowd when he opened the theater door. 

There she was, standing to the side of the foyer, mirroring his searching gaze. Her face lit up when she spotted him, those crinkles coming to her eyes with her smile. She was beautiful in a soft white half-cape set on top of a pale green dress. She waved. Thor jolted from his spot and crossed the room. He had to lean over to meet her hug. She was so small in his arms. The last time he had seen her, she was still a fraction taller than he was. When she stepped back, she held onto both his hands. “Hello, Thor.”

“Hello, mom.” She tucked her head into his chest immediately, arms around his middle. The words had come from Thor's own mouth and he was as surprised as she was. His bewilderment did not matter, it felt right--ill-fitting suit, this tiny version of Frigga, Loki backstage, all of it--it was perfect. Frigga straightened and wiped her eyes. The hard lump in his throat barely held back his own tears.

Thor extended his elbow. “Shall we find our seats, m’lady?” She nodded and allowed him to escort her into the theater.

Perfection is fleeting, their conversation was fits and stops. Each added details to what Loki had shared with the other. Thor wondered at the flow of time that brought them here, to a new moment that felt so familiar. Frigga laughed at some story he was telling. Thor studied the shape of her cheeks, the curls that framed her face, the wrinkles next to her blue-green eyes. For this opportunity, he thanked a delayed curtain time.

Loki was cast as the Puck and they had been commenting on their costume for weeks. They had refused to show either Frigga or Thor a picture, insisting that it would be better on the stage. Verity agreed, but as a contributor to the set design, she was biased. It was worth the wait. Loki had been treated as the canvas for an artist's muse. They had been painted in dappled forest shadows and flora, random spots in bloom, a skirt of greenery was a minimal attempt at modesty, and a flower crown became a mocking jab at the king he served. The designer had gone for otherworldly and nailed it with the trickster. The rest of the fae had similar costumes, though generally with more plumage than Loki’s. Truly, the crew's work in costuming and sets was fabulous. Thor would have to let Verity know. The cast did a wonderful job with the performance. It is always a good thing to be pulled into a story.

Thor could have recited the farewell speech himself, Loki had been inserting it into conversations. Thor's favorite was their response when Sif questioned if they had eaten the last of the ice cream.

> Gentles, do not reprehend;  
>  If you pardon, we will mend;  
>  Else the Puck a liar call;  
>  Ask Thor, was not I took all. 

  
Of course, Shakespeare's original version was laid out tonight and Loki did right by the Bard.

**********  
Thor and Frigga met with the cast after the curtain call. Loki was not just walking around in body paint and ferns, it was a bodysuit. Actual paint was limited to head and hands. An artist had done the fae’s bodysuits with an airbrush, stitching in flowers and other greenery. The same artist did the fill in body paint for each performance. Frigga insisted on being introduced to such talent. Together, they gushed over how well the costumes came together.

Loki interrupted, asking Frigga, “the usual?” and at her nod, excused themselves to get changed. 

“Ice cream.” Frigga answered Thor’s raised eyebrow.

That was tradition from when they were kids. There would be a recital, a show, a game--public performance often was followed with family time in the ice cream parlor. Here, the family could share in the behind the scenes triumphs and worries. Thor could not remember what the event was that prompted the last ice cream trip, but it must have been that summer before Frigga left. The angry thirteen-year-old wanted to scream that this had been continued without him. The adult whose body he inhabited simply responded, “of course.”

**********  
Thor observed that little family seemed out of place at Dairy Queen. In the bright lights it became obvious there were grey strands in Frigga’s updo. Loki’s blue jeans and hoodie were a sad counterpoint to her theater attire. Thor wondered what he added to the tableau, the linebacker’s shoulders stretching the seams of his not quite right fit jacket. Loki got to the end of the story about the set collapsing on dress rehearsal night. The imitation of Verity’s temper for having to fix the damage had both Frigga and Loki in stitches. The warmth radiating from the two of them was brighter than the fluorescent bulbs. Out of place did not matter.

Frigga paused in her laughter, “That’s as fabulous as the director’s outburst at Thor’s drunken cat!”

Thor grinned broadly, an oversize scoop of Oreo Blizzard halfway to his lips. “I did not ‘ruin Tchaikovsky’s masterpiece’ with my antics. I helped it!” Frigga referred, of course, to the final presentation of _The Nutcracker_ in which Thor had participated. Outside of regular dancers like Loki, the production needed several extras to play the waltzing couples and the snowmen. Most of the extras were the dancers’ boyfriends, Loki contributed his brother. Thor had gotten his height before his bulk, so he looked more the adult part than his age would have suggested. That, however, did not account for the teen’s boredom. There was a stuffed toy cat as a prop on the stage. Thor had taken to carrying it around and petting it during the scene when he was supposed to be mingling. During the final performance, the largest one, Thor “shared” his champagne with the cat--a sip for Thor, a sip for the cat, repeat. The Ballet Mistress had been livid.

Banging once on the table as the Mistress had banged her cane on the ground, Loki repeated her threats, “Frigga, that son of yours better never come near a stage of mine ever again! Leave me Loki, but take that great buffoon with you!” Bouncing the ice cream on the table, Loki had nailed the older woman’s inflection and fury. What Loki could not imitate concurrently was Thor’s young brother standing behind the Mistress, index finger shaking, mocking her outburst. That had been Thor's favorite part of the night.

As their laughter died, Thor asked, “did you ever get the role as the King Rat?” Loki had played mice and soldiers, but as a child dreamed of the larger roles. At home he would don a cape and practice his flying kicks until an adult asked him to stop, again.

Loki grinned, “That and Arabian--a version based on the Moscow Ballet's amazing pas de deux choreography, though the Mouse King shall always be my favorite.” There was a wistfulness in their voice that makes Thor wish he had seen the performances.

They shared new stories and old, until long after the remaining melted drops of ice cream could no longer be chased around a cup. In squeaky vinyl booths, neon advertisement shining through the window, the world became a little smaller and memory took a brighter shine. 

Frigga hugged him again before parting. Standing on tiptoe, she placed a kiss upon his cheek, “Good night Thor."

He heard the phrase repeated from years of nightly kisses until there was only silence. He wished her well and waved as she drove away. His “good night mom” followed after she had gone, his fingers brushing the phantom of warmth on his cheek. 

Loki bumped a shoulder into his own. “Thank you, that made her night.” 

Thor shrugged. There was too much to say--years’ worth--and too much that did not make a difference years later. 

“It was good to see her again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been informed, sadly, that not everyone knows the 1987 cult classic, _The Princess Bride_. I can promise you that this Frigga grew up with it and would have insisted that her boys watch it. If you've missed out and you really want to see B-movie dialog that was memorized by all children of the 80's, here is ["To the Pain."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUJccK4lV74>)
> 
> Also, if I'm going to go full nerd, have the Moscow Ballet's [Arabian Variation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sEgjXxjxIw) and the inspiration for Loki's costume: [1Fairy... by Ekaterina Zakharova](https://www.deviantart.com/zakharova/art/1Fairy-153470442)


	4. The Itsy-Bitsy Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There exists a romantic notion of survival. Survivors are heroes, it is said. But the words don't matter. In the echoing dark, survivors are fighting the same battle. Repeatedly. Excruciatingly. Alone. 
> 
> Though, perhaps, two can fight memories better than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The itsy-bitsy spider  
> Climbed up the water spout  
> Down came the rain  
> And washed the spider out  
> Out came the sun  
> And dried up all the rain  
> And the itsy-bitsy spider  
> Climbed up the spout again

Thor was working Clockwork’s security tonight. Though he preferred to be behind the bar where the tips were much better, some days he had to be in a more imposing role. Thor was grateful that the owner let him do both. A pickier person, would not have permitted the lineman’s bulk behind the bar. So, Thor chalked up days on security as his trade-off for better income the rest of the time.

Tonight, the rival football team was in town and the crowd was bound to be rowdy. The planning and staffing were spot on. Before eleven, the club was full. There was a line at the door and Thor had already earned his pay several times over. As a bouncer, the job was not to be the biggest, baddest guy at the party. Well, that helped, but the job was really to de-escalate problems before they became bigger. Thor had escorted multiple problems to the door and only had to carry one problem out this evening.

It was after accompanying a set of obnoxious ‘friends’ out that Thor decided to walk the line. Sometimes it was easy to tell who was going to be an issue. Thor liked to know who was coming in so he could keep an eye on them.

Suddenly, voices got loud from the far corner of the parking lot. A woman screamed. There was a grunt with a metallic crunch, a body thrown into a vehicle. Thor shouted at the door guy and took off running. Thor knew his crew, someone would be right behind him. 

“You bitch!” It was a man’s voice. Thor was familiar with the next set of thuds he heard, fists on flesh. Over the vehicles he could see two men and a tall woman. He vaulted a car hood when he realized the third person, just now doubled over, was Loki. They took another blow to the side before collapsing.

Thor lunged between Loki and the man who had just swung, the step leading into a cross the asshole never saw coming. He went down. 

“What the f…” the other did not get to finish the phrase. Thor aimed for center mass as he regained his balance, an uppercut finished the match as the man flew back into the car he had already dented.

Hogun arrived just as Thor was turning to check on Loki. They were trying to push themselves up. Loki spit blood and their left eye was not opening fully. Thor asked them to keep still, hand on their shoulder. He was trying to assess the damage and struggling to project calm while doing so. Loki was cussing out the bastards but remained sitting with Thor’s presence holding them down. Thor suspected they had bitten their tongue, but it looked like most of the blood was coming from their nose. 

Loki took a breath. They squirmed all of a sudden. They scrabbled at their clothes, trying to pull their torn dress back together. Thor could see tears gather on their lashes. Quickly, Thor had his polo over his head and in Loki’s hands. “Put this on.” A couple more of the Clockwork’s crew were there, someone told him the cops and the ambulance had been called. Hogun was guarding the two men. One was regaining consciousness, the other was not.

Thor finally acknowledged the two women standing next to Loki. In doing so, he recognized them as Loki’s friends. Darcy explained that the still unconscious man had grabbed her when she came around her car. She had marks on her arm and it had been Darcy’s scream that he heard. Thor’s eyes narrowed. Verity added that even when she got out of the car, the man refused to let go and graphically described what would happen next to the two women. Coming out of nowhere, Loki had rushed him, wrenching his grasp from Darcy’s arm and shoving him into the car. Thor was glaring at the man. His chest was rising and falling. Thor was not sure if he wanted the man to actually be breathing or not.

From below the conversation, barely audible, “I want to go home, Thor.” 

Thor hated to tell them no, but he knew they needed to be checked out and get information to the cops who were just arriving. The officers knew Thor, so it did not matter he was standing there in an undershirt. Thor asked them to allow Loki to be assessed before taking their statement. One officer talked to Verity and Darcy, the other went to Hogun and tried to make sense of the man who was now yelling to be let go. Thor stayed with Loki. The paramedics told Thor to watch for signs of a concussion. 

Eventually, the officers returned. From their seat on the car bumper, Loki quietly answered the questions about their name and address. They stumbled over the events and stopped talking. They would not look anyone in the eye, their fingers pulling at the hem of Thor’s shirt as if wishes would make it longer. The officer handed Loki a card, Loki did not move. The officer shared a look with Thor. He took the card and nodded at the request for a more complete statement tomorrow.

“Can we leave now?” Loki’s soft request was not accompanied by movement. Perhaps they were waiting for acknowledgement? Permission? Thor did not know.

He called over Verity and Darcy and asked them to take Loki home. Loki’s fingers curled tightly in Thor’s pant leg.

“Please.” Loki looked up. The overhead light cast harsh shadows on their already angular face. The well-known features were made patchy with beginning bruises, drying blood and streaked makeup. Underneath the mask, his little brother begged in tears that refused to fall.

Thor carefully ran his palm over the back of Loki’s shoulder, resting for a moment on the back of their neck. “Of course.” 

After confirming that Verity and Darcy were going to be able to get home, Thor let Hogun know that he was leaving with Loki. Only then did Loki stand. Thor took in the slumped shoulders, the ducked chin, the hair allowed to cover Loki’s face. In silence, they walked to Thor’s car. The radio provided meager distraction on the ride, Thor had no idea what to say. Occasionally, street lamps illuminated the passenger side. Tears now shone on Loki's cheeks as their hands remain folded in their lap.

***********

Loki’s hand rests on the car door, their back to Thor. “Come in.” Loki exits the vehicle without turning around.

Thor follows through the door they left open and then closes the world away. Loki does not turn on a light until they get to the kitchen. The bright fluorescent challenges Thor to not draw attention to the mess from the fight. There is blood on their nose and under their chin. Blurred cosmetics create dark circles under their eyes. There is blood and dirt on their hands--the scrapes there need to be washed. Thor would be more comfortable after getting clean and wearing his own clothes, but Loki takes none of these steps. Loki twists the tops from two bottles and hands one to Thor. Loki walks around him, back towards the living area that opens to the kitchen. They take a seat on the couch and drink down half their beer. The boots have some sort of zipper coming partway up the shaft and Loki is fiddling with the right one. 

Thor remains between the rooms, turning the bottle in his hands. “Loki? What do..”

“Just sit.” Thor does as he is told. He watches now empty boots fall over awkwardly, zippers gaping. What is fine, shiny leather on the outside is rough edges and worn spots from this angle. Loose threads stick out, obvious in the pool of light from the kitchen. Loki sets the empty bottle on the floor, it falls against a boot heel. Leaning forward, their forearms settle on their knees, right hand picking at the left.

“Why are guys assholes?” Loki flashes a look at him, still unable to open his left eye fully. “No, it’s rhetorical. Don’t answer that.”

The silence stretches out around them. Thor watches Loki stew, surely their head must be pounding. The swelling is bound to be getting worse. Loki’s shoulders move now and again, tensing and collapsing.

“When we were little, I thought we would fight the monsters off together. I believed that the good guys always won. Eventually, I understood that monsters were fiction, but I still believed that we were the good guys.” Loki clasps their hands together fiercely, white knuckled, perhaps to stop the picking. The scrapes where skin has peeled back are stark against the strain. 

“And then things change. We grow up to find that demons are real. However, they are not red-eyed monsters, but men...humans not just boys... though often enough... People get hurt, constantly. There’s no purpose to it.” 

Loki looks smaller on the couch, torn fabric of their dress peeking out from under the hem of Thor’s shirt. Shadows play in the streaks on their face. Real monsters did that. Thor’s heart goes out to two little knights who lost their innocence somewhere along the years. It was so much simpler when they just had to be clean for dinner and no one actually got hurt chasing the demons. 

“If I tell you something, can you just listen?” Having gone extremely still, Loki is staring at the carpet in front of them. With the mechanical whir of the refrigerator in the background, Thor strains to make out the words. He nods, not that Loki is looking, though it appears not to matter.

“Nobody knows. I couldn’t let it live out loud. Tonight, it’s clawing through my skin.” There is silence, Thor wills his own loudly beating heart to stillness. Whatever this is, it does not need any interruption.

“I said the worst thing in high school was having mom for a principal. I lied. She was my grand protector. Anyone who said a word about me, any joke, any half-hidden sexist comment--all of these things she went after and eradicated. Mom couldn't catch everything, but I know now she is the only reason it was a livable thing for me to exist. She suspended students. She suspended teachers. Fuck, she even left your dad." Loki glances his way with a grimace that is half apology and half strain from trying to scrunch their bruised cheek, "Sorry. You know how he is. He wouldn't back down, not even for her." Thor nods again and sips at his bottle. There are many examples of Odin's stubborn bullshit. Frigga was not the first, nor the last. 

"Teenagers are stupid. I thought she was overprotective. I mean, she was, but I thought I had to escape her. I thought that I deserved freedom,” Loki resumes that long stare, focused at a spot beyond the fluff of the carpet. They are holding every muscle tight, with visible cords on their arms and neck. This petrification somehow creates the scaffold that holds their voice together.

“I had to get away. It was an imperative." Loki scoffs and shakes their head. Hair falls completely over their face, apparently this is barrier enough to let go of the most extreme tension. The cording in their muscles releases. “I was a fool.

"I went to a party with some friends, several towns away. A place where I wasn't her child first, myself second. Nobody knew me, I delighted in finally escaping her shadow. 

"We were dressed to kill. All our parents thought we were staying at someone else’s house. We weren’t planning on coming home until morning. We took condoms. We thought we were being ‘safe’.” Loki drew a shuddering breath.

“There was this group of boys, flirting with us, bringing us drinks. We were exotic, unknown, fresh. I forgot to be afraid. I don’t know when, but my friends each left the patio with some of the boys. The three remaining…” Loki’s long fingers are pulling at pieces of loose skin on their palm. Fresh blood shines as it catches light from the kitchen, “it was nice. They told me I was beautiful. They took turns kissing me. I was drunk, sure. But, I was thrilled! I wanted them to. Three, good-looking guys were making out with me...with me!”

The long pause finds Thor holding his breath. He does not want to hear about the awful things that were coming next. He wants it to stop. He wants to be able to stop it from happening. It was going to be bad. He forces his fists open. The catch of a slightly swollen knuckle reminds him that he already hit two men tonight. He cannot punch his way out of this now. His only job is to shut up and listen. 

“Eventually, there was a hand under my skirt.”

Loki cringes and then straightens. In a deep voice, thick with accusation, “You fake bitch! This girl's got a dick!” 

A different register, “Can't be! Our Loki's too pretty to be a boy!”

Thor knew Loki was a mimic. He was hearing the comments as if the assholes were sitting right there. Loki had been carrying those voices in their head. They had been carrying them for years. 

Loki starts to sob. “I tried…to tell…not...Just me. I'm just…me.” Loki crumples in on themselves, shaking with each attempted breath. 

Thor was out of his chair, half-kneeling in front of Loki, arms around them. He caresses their back, allowing room for each body-wracking shudder. When they could almost breathe normally, Loki pulls away. “Let me up, I...I have to finish.” They turn away from the offered comfort. They would not look at him. “I don't want to keep it any more. 

“Stay.” Though Loki had pushed his arms away, they had grabbed the fabric of his pants again. Thor sits on the couch, next to Loki, his useless hands clasped in his lap. 

Loki stares at the carpet, shallowly breathing. 

Loki reverts to that emotionless voice used with the officers earlier, a lifetime ago. “I didn't understand at first. The one guy dumped me off his lap to the floor and he straightened out my clothes.” Loki stops. One breath. Two. 

“It was when he knelt behind me, and pulled my arms back… He told me I had to be a good girl for them…not…not just some…useless…lying...fag boy.” Loki had gone rigid again. “He held me there while his friends... He…he…” One breath. 

Loki's voice deepens, “You're going to suck nice and swallow. You keep that face all pretty for me, girl, or I will shove your fake fucking face in the dirt and take your bitch ass.” One breath. Two. 

Loki's hand was on Thor's. Thor opens his fingers to hold it. They may no longer be young boys, but knights or not, they were stronger together. 

“Wh…while they were busy…he kept…touching me and whispering in my ear…he kept me...he kept me hard the entire time. 

“When they were finished, I just let him replace them. He kept calling me his ‘pretty little bitch boy’.” Loki modulates his voice with the phrase. “No one held me down any longer. There were cuts in my mouth that my teeth kept digging into, it didn't matter. It could have been worse. He made sure I knew that. ‘Pretty little bitch boy,' he came on my face. It was in my hair, on my clothes, 'pretty little bitch boy'.” 

Tears run in rivers down Loki's face. This time, they do not pull away when Thor slides an arm around them. “When I stood, they didn't try and stop me. I found a bathroom and washed as best I could. I spent the rest of the night in the car.”

Loki leans into Thor's hold, tucking their head under his chin. Tears continue to fall, but their breathing deepens. Thor was not a believer in anything spiritual, but he begs any power who might be listening that Loki's horrific tale was through. The lump of guilt that catches in his throat is as illogical, but logic has no place here.

“The guys tonight, it wasn’t me they were after. So why do I keep seeing HIS face? Hearing HIS voice? I don’t want it anymore. Make it go away.”

Thor sighs and holds Loki tighter. “I wish I knew how.”


	5. When the Bough Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How close is too close? Did Icarus wonder before he began to climb? Thor didn't even pause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Rock-a-bye Baby” printed in Mother Goose’s Melody (1765)  
> Rock-a-bye baby  
> On the tree tops,  
> When the wind blows,  
> The cradle will rock  
> When the bough breaks,  
> The cradle will fall,  
> and down will come baby,  
> Cradle and all.

After that night, Thor kept a closer eye on Loki when they came to Clockwork. He knew when Loki was coming in and always escorted Loki and their friends out. Thor could not change the past. But he was damn sure nothing else was going to have the opportunity to hurt Loki while he was around. 

Loki was a joy to watch while dancing. It seemed they were born with an inner sense of rhythm. When they were children, Loki would dance throughout the entire house. Sure, they practiced, but they were just as likely to be making up something of their own. And it never mattered if there was music playing or not, Loki moved to their own drummer.

Even after all that had happened, Loki entered the club with an easiness Thor assumed came from these years of playing with the music. There must be confidence in this connection. They moved as one with the bass. Even in the half-stillness of standing, Loki swayed. When they walked, that sway beckoned. And when they chose to engage--it was pure art: smooth, inviting, magical. More than once, Thor found his work paused while he watched the flow of lithe movements. Loki had a rare beauty. Yes, this was a college club, inundated with sensuality--an already mystical presentation of lights, alcohol and desire--and even here Loki was exceptional.

And perhaps that difference was their power. For while Thor appreciated the artistry in Loki’s connection with music, their influence over people in this environment was much harder to pin down. People reacted differently to Loki at Clockwork. Loki was able to captivate others. In his head, Thor continued to call this persona 'the Huntress' as he had initially named her. Outside of the club, Loki seemed to not put energy into that power gamble. Thor had looked for her, but she only showed up here. 

However, Thor had to revise his assessment of the Huntress now that he was watching closely. She did not invite attention, she challenged it. Thor noted the careful display of movement and skin--and the glare that oversaw every action. Loki had rolled up all that power into projecting, “look, but do not touch.” It was magic that the Huntress pulled it off, Thor had never seen anything like it. He watched as grabby hands were removed, a confident “wait” conveyed while she danced for the now entranced man. Women were neither so handsy, nor were their advances rebuffed with such prejudice. The Huntress responded to women in ways that made Thor blush and look away, stealing fleeting glimpses of intimacy as if he were a voyeur, uninvited. 

**********  
“You really are a good guy, Thor.” The comment came from a new hire. 

Thor stopped walking and turned towards her, “Thank you, I think.” She had been working at the Clockwork Lullaby for several weeks now. That meant she missed the altercation last month, but this sounded like more than, "Wow, you haven’t decked anyone since I’ve been here." 

The club had closed, all the lights were on for the staff to clean by. She continued wiping down the glasses and putting them away. “Well, the way you are with Loki.” she dragged out Loki's name as if the slight exaggeration was supposed to make her implication clear. 

Thor blinked. “What?”

The bright lights made every fidget obvious. “Um,” she pulled at the towel in her hand as she stuttered, “You're not, um, jealous at all. Most guys with a girlfriend who looks like Loki and dances like Loki wouldn't take it so well.” 

Thor snapped his mouth closed. It took three attempts, but he was eventually able to get the sentence out to correct her, to disavow such a relationship. Additional explanation stalled on his lips, this was a convoluted thing. It made sense why someone might think they were dating. Honestly, he loved Loki. Others could probably pick up on that.

“Oh, sorry. I just thought...” the woman continued talking, but Thor was walking away.

Love? Did his brain just say love? Well, they were family after all. Would he use that word with his father? With Frigga? Family is supposed to care about each other. And Loki was fun and snarky and playful (and exquisite, added a quiet voice--that’s why she said something). Having a sibling in his life again was nice. Thor liked having someone to look out for, no one else needed him like that. Not that Loki really needed him... 

Thor had already counted down his till, cleaning work meant his thoughts could spin. All of the Clockwork’s employees knew the unspoken rule--the faster your work is done, the faster we all leave. The cleaning was not always stellar, but it was a routine he could follow blindfolded.

**********  
In high school, Thor was introduced to the concept of found family. Spanish sounded like a good idea and he took to it easily. There was structure in learning language. However, vocabulary went to every topic and quickly they arrived at the chapter filled with the words for family and home. When the teacher began to explain the family tree project, Thor felt his stomach crawl up into his rib cage. Who should go on the King family tree? His father? Grandma Bestla? The rest were dead or gone. 

Then, the teacher told them to get creative. You did not have to highlight your actual family: make an ideal; make it a hot mess; make it real; whatever you wanted to do. The people pictured did not matter, the project was to use the vocabulary of relationships. So, Thor picked a family with a lot of people and ended up with the Árbol de la Familia Weasley, written from Ron’s viewpoint.

The family trees stayed hung on the walls of the room for months. There were plenty of famous people pictured, but those did not grab Thor's attention. Rather he was interested in projects by students who had inserted real people into their families. Thor closely examined those who claimed their best friends were their siblings or who named their coaches as parents or aunts and uncles. Coach Heimdall had that kind of role. Thor began to count him that way.

It took years before Thor felt like he had a full group that functioned like a family. When he came to the university, the coaches pushed the team into group activities. There were team dinners, study groups, practice and more. By virtue of constant time together, they had to look out for each other. There were some loners and some morons, but what family did not have those? 

After breaking his ankle, the guys helped when they could. But things had changed. He could not really practice and it was a struggle to get around on campus with his crutches. The rest of that semester, he studied with them, lifted when he could, and cheered on their victories and their losses. When the doctor told him that he could not release him to play, Thor heard the door close on the last hopes of becoming part of that camaraderie again.

The next semester was when Thor started working at Clockwork. It was not a team or a family, but pieces felt familiar. Thor knew how to put people at ease, so he did, while holding them at arm’s length. That was safer. He could have fun with this group, but he did not have to depend on them. In the ensuing years, some people had snuck through the cracks: Hogun, Sif, and now Loki returned. 

So, sure, love is the appropriate word for family.

*********

The film selection for the night was _The Crow_ , Brandon Lee’s final hurrah. None of the usuals joined them and Loki’s roommates were out. Loki grabs a beer for both while Thor opens the cheese popcorn.

“The other night, the new girl at work wanted to know why I wasn't jealous of how people are always all over you in the club. I had to explain to her we weren't dating.”

Loki tosses the bottle caps into the bin and turns to Thor, “And if we were? Would you be jealous then?”

Thor takes a drink. “Well, I don't think you'd let me. I cannot see you putting up with a controlling partner. If we were dating, I would have to trust you out in the world.”

“That, Thor, is exactly the right answer,” they lean in and kiss Thor's cheek. “We should be dating.” They take their beer and go to the other room. 

Thor follows with the bag of popcorn crinkling. Loki was seated on one end of the couch, remote in their hand, the movie just starting. Thor sets the bag on the center cushion, plastic grating loudly as he sits on the other end. Thor holds his beer on his knee, a ring of cold seeping through jeans.

He is not going to touch the spot on his cheek. However, he shifts against the corner of the couch, facing slightly away from the television, but more towards Loki. They don’t date men. Thor knew why. But the implication...why would Loki...? Thor does not reach for his cheek. 

Why indeed?

Light from the changing screen plays over them in the darkness. Long legs splay out in a pair of loose jeans, topped with a rather tight t-shirt featuring the old fashioned Justice League logo. There was a small hole near the collar, it must be a favorite. Loki grabs a handful of popcorn and picks up a few pieces at a time with lips and tongue. 

It was not first time they had kissed him, on the cheek or on the forehead. Nor could he say that was a rare occurrence lately. Even their hugs and other touches had gotten more frequent. The sensations were right there: Loki’s hand on his arm, their fingers behind Thor’s neck, their arm around his center as they slide by to get something in the narrow kitchenette, their hips brush... 

Thor feels his cheeks start to burn. Recently, the porn he had been watching featured elegant, long-limbed women and men, all dark-haired. 

Did he?

It couldn’t be.

Loki kicks his foot. “I’m getting another beer, you want one?” Loki is standing in front of him. Those loose jeans hang low, the shirt raised on one side, a tempting sliver of skin exposed. Abruptly, Thor looks up. Their long hair frames their face. This was not better, the Huntress superimposed on Loki. Thor just nods. Loki turns and walks away, that balanced sway alluding to some music, somewhere just beyond the range of Thor’s hearing.

He is finally able to draw breath when Loki/Huntress leaves the room. Logic tells him there is no difference between Loki and the Huntress. Logic is not helping. If there was no difference, whose curves had he traced in his dreams? Whose head had he pictured tilted just so? He lifts the almost full bottle from his knee and downs it in one go. There is another murder happening on the television, that is kind of distracting and helpful. Though maybe a movie featuring incestuous siblings was not a good choice. 

He accepts the cold bottle when Loki returns, setting it beside the couch. It clinks against the empty one. 

“You don't date guys.” 

“No, generally not.” They settle into the corner of the couch once more.

“You haven't been out with anyone lately.”

“So? Neither have you. Why the sudden interest in who I'm seeing? Or how often?”

Thor stares at the screen. In the darkness, a frightened man frantically tries to make sense of impossibilities, pleading for his life. Thor is absolutely not paying attention to Loki watching him. 

“You're right." Thor ignores the questions. "I haven't been serious with anyone in a long time.” He watches flames spreading over the design, the familiar crow taking shape. “I generally don't go out with guys either.”

Loki hits the pause button. “What are you talking about?” 

“You said we should be dating, but you don't date men.” Thor glances their way and then immediately elsewhere. He could hear the denials coming: they were only joking, they hadn't meant anything, they were his sibling. 

“Thor.

“Thor, look at me.” Thor lifts his head to Loki's hard gaze. He focuses on Loki's lips instead, soft, pink, kissable. He grips his knee, vaguely aware of the damp denim on his palm. He looks back up. “Are you being serious?” 

Thor had only seen that look from the Huntress, to other men. He drops his eyes, he knows rejection when he sees it. What the hell is he doing? This is ridiculous. How could he have thought that was what Loki meant? 

“Oh fuck, you are.” Loki squeaks out. The popcorn bag crinkles. Thor glances over, they are not grabbing a handful, they are moving the bag. 

“Baby,” Loki climbs over the center cushion. “I'd make an exception for you.” They kneel over his lap, not yet seated. They place a hand on either side of his face. “Is that what you want?” 

Thor’s hands lift and settle on the couch again, his thumb brushing Loki’s leg. What can he touch? Is he allowed? The Huntress holds him with her power, if there are words he does not know them. He nods.

Their lips are on his, softly, slowly, as if asking again for permission. The two draw from the same breath. Thor responds with a deeper kiss, bringing his hands up and settling them on Loki's hips. Loki pulls back, arching. Tresses fall off their shoulders, their neck a long line. Their eyelids flutter.

Loki sighs.

“Loki, my god,” Thor's reverence shakes, a rediscovered voice, hesitant, quiet. His fingertips skim Loki's sides. “Can we? Should we?”

“What? Of course we should.” Their grin widens, filled with the promise of hundreds of moments successfully discarding the rules and the proprieties: the little boys playing in the rain when they were supposed to come in; the frog in a box, hidden under the bed; picking out lipstick; the Huntress dancing. Loki grins with his kiss on their lips. 

They roll their hips in Thor's lap. “Oh, we definitely should. We agree on that point.” Another shift presses their hardnesses together. 

“But…”

“There are no but’s, Thor. I want this. You want it. What else is there? Kiss me again.” Loki leans in and his pursed lips touch Thor's. This kiss is not so chaste, Loki devours him. He pulls them close, heat building between the two.

With a breath, Thor is talking.

“What about our parents?” 

Loki sits up straight, rocking back on their heels. “What the fuck Thor? Do you think this is a game? You kiss me like that and then ask about our fucking parents? God-fucking-dammit!” Loki's volume was increasing, “What? Did you suddenly remember who I am? Did grinding against my hard cock scare you straight? Did you forget we were siblings once upon a time? Do you think we should call mom right now? Oh no, let's call Odin. That's a much better idea!” 

Loki mimes a phone to their ear and deepens their voice, “Mr. King, sir, your son got turned on by a pretty little bitch boy that he's kind of related to. What do you think?” On the last word, their voice cracks and they fall back back into the cushions. 

Thor recognizes the voice Loki is imitating, they are back in THAT memory. Thor reaches out, but does not touch them. “That's not what…” 

The interruption comes sharply, “I don't care what you meant, Thor.” His name is a curse, spit from those full lips. “I am not fucking 17 anymore. I'm not going to just fucking take it.” Thor cringes. “Get out. Brother.” 

Thor gasps as if punched by that final denunciation. He opens his mouth, yet words fail him. This is his fault. Loki told him to leave, he should. He stands and walks to the door. He turns, Loki's eyes are shining, tears not yet falling. They have not moved from where they collapsed.

He has to apologize, he should be holding Loki right now. 

Loki glares at him, “Get. The fuck. Out.” 

Two steps down the hall, the click of the lock is heavy in the silence behind him: like suitcases stacked next to the door; like the shattering of bone; like spike heels walking away.


	6. Baby Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By risking nothing, we gain nothing. The reward is in the risk. Can it be balanced with the loss?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Baby Mine" by Betty Noyes
> 
> Baby mine, don't you cry  
> Baby mine, dry your eyes  
> Rest your head close to my heart  
> Never to part, baby of mine
> 
> Little one, when you play,  
> Pay no heed, what they say.  
> Let your eyes sparkle and shine,  
> Never a tear, baby of mine.

He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to go anywhere. He needed to think. No, he didn’t need that, that was what got him into trouble in the first place.

Thor pulled into the parking lot, he could get into the training rooms at any time of day or night. He nodded to one guy on an elliptical while he wrapped his hands. No one working out at midnight wants to talk to anyone else. For that, Thor was grateful. 

Thor stood in front of the familiar bag. Loki’s accusations were locked into replay. Thor began his warm up sequence. His body knew the way even with his brain drowning in echoes and consequences.

_“Get out. Brother.”_

Breathe out. Breathe in. Swing.

*********  
Loki had barreled into him and pushed him out of their parents’ room. “Close your eyes! Get out! Get out!” Thor had gone along with the smaller boy’s insistence. Loki could not have moved him without cooperation. There was wrapping paper on the bed and Frigga giggling in the background. Loki had bought him a copy of _The Lightning Thief_ for his birthday. Thor pretended he had not seen it on the bed when Loki handed him the over-taped rectangle that he *had* to open first. In Loki’s neat printing, the tag read, “To: The Best Brother, From: The Better Brother.” The boy had beamed, a lopsided smile punctuated by a hole where a tooth used to be.

**********  
Loki had called him baby. Thor grinned, a maniac with his guard up, the bag swinging back.

_“I’d make an exception.”_

Did he want it? Yes. His punch was off, skimming the bag. He had to stop the errant swing and restart the sequence. Did he want what came with the exception? That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? Relationships came with risks: suitcases stacked at the door, a break that never heals quite right, spike heels...that story had not ended. Yet.

_“I want this. You want it.”_

1-2 punch. Fuck. If he listened to his dick, he wanted a lot of things. Thor had been intimate with men and women, and it didn’t matter that Loki defied those terms. Loki checked all his boxes, so yes, he wanted. Those long legs wrapped around him, those lips...that kiss, those kisses. The heat was a memory and he still felt it burning on his skin. It was not his imagination that Loki matched that passion. They were siblings, sort-of. But if Loki didn’t care, then did it really matter?

_“Is that what you want?”_

Yes. No. Both. He was scared of what he might lose. He was scared of what he might already have lost. What risk could he take?

********  
As a teen, he both knew and he didn’t. He had come to realize that perception was not really unusual. He knew teenagers were obsessed with sex, everyone said so. He figured his random palpitations and boners were the same as everyone else’s. He knew who the hot girls and hot guys were, everyone talked about them. It took him longer to realize that everyone didn’t have a visceral reaction to some of both.

He never went out with guys in high school, made out with a couple, but he would not bring them home to his father. That was not a risk he would take. The freedom of college made him braver. His coaches had not put up with comments, the gay guy on the team had a steady boyfriend. The guys that were assholes about it, quickly learned to not say anything. So Thor had not caught too much flak the times he chose to go out with, or go home with, men.

Dealing with his father required planning, the distance made the consequences less intense and with some time between visits, there was space for Odin to get over himself. Thor dropped the mention in a phone call. 

“We’re going to the movie he picked.”

“Wait, I thought you said you were going on a date?”

“Yes, dad, I am. And he picked out the movie.”

The silence stretched over the distance, the bits of static the only confirmation that they had not been disconnected. Thor silently counted to eleven before Odin spoke, “I see.” Another count of four and he changed the subject. 

Thor never actually talked with his father about coming out, but at least the old man stopped making homophobic comments around Thor. Odin did appear very relieved when Thor introduced him to a girlfriend on his next visit. And now, it had been more than a year since Thor had a significant relationship, but his father never said anything. It was cliche for parents to constantly ask about dating. It was not like Odin to not try and control something. Perhaps his father did not push because he was uncomfortable with the possibilities. Perhaps he thought that when Thor was done with college, his son would be more reasonable and start seeing a nice, local girl.

With graduation around the corner, non-binary partner was likely not what he was expecting.

**********

_“Mr. King, sir, your son”_

Thor began a quick round on the bag. He did not want to hear that mocked conversation again, not that voice. 

_“Sir, your son”_

No. 

He struck the bag again and again until he could only hear his own wheezing.

_“Son,”_ The ghost hand on his shoulder belonged to Heimdall. _“When you’re ready, son, you can control your breath. When the breath is calmed, the mind too will be stilled.”_

Thor focused on the sequence, with Coach H’s soothing voice calling out the repetition.

When he finally brought the bag to stillness, his shoulders and tris were screaming, but Thor knew what he had to do next.

*********  
He showered and put on that night’s clothes again. It was 1:27 in the morning. Thor texted from the locker room.

“You up?” The indicator changed from sent to read. Thor sat on the hard bench, refreshing the screen for ten minutes. He texted again.

“We should talk.” Sent flipped to read. Thor put down the phone and paced. Each time he picked it up, there was no new message. His alarm rang at ten minutes, 600 seconds that he had counted in his head as 743. He called and repeated his request into voicemail. The new text notification dinged as he finished.

“I disagree. Open communication was never our family’s forte.” 

“I’ll bring that coffee you like.” Sent changed to read and Thor went to his car.

Another 10 minutes passed and Thor stared at the read notification on the messenger screen, phone balanced on the steering wheel. He could wait. He set the phone in a cup holder. He would not contact Loki again until tomorrow. Technically, that would be today, but he would wait until after noon. That would be better. He drove home. He was not going to sleep, but at least this way he would not be the creep sitting in his car in an empty parking lot at 2 a.m. either.

The screen remained unchanged when he took the phone out of the cup holder.

*********  
The notification buzzed and Thor was sure he had imagined it. He swiped to the messaging app, expecting to see the same read symbol that he had been refreshing all night. He blinked twice at the new bubble before it registered.

“Extra shot of espresso.”

Thor replied with a coffee emoji.

Thor stood and stretched. It was after 4. He was at Loki’s door with two steaming cups before 4:30.

**********  
Thor should have put on fresh clothes, Loki had. They were wearing clean jeans, a theater department hoody and makeup. Thor did not remember them wearing any earlier. Now, Loki looked at him through dark lashes, glossy lips drawn into a tight line. They wordlessly accepted the offered cup and stood in the doorway. 

Thor shifted his balance to one foot. “I’m sorry.” Loki’s glare did not change. “I spoke without thinking and I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”

Loki looked him up and down. Chewing their bottom lip, they stepped to the side and held the door. Thor had to shuffle sideways through the narrowed space. 

“My roommates are sleeping, keep quiet.” Loki remained standing and Thor followed suit.

Thor sipped his own coffee before setting it down. “I don’t know how to do this.” His arms swung slightly, he leaned toward the cup but did not touch it. He straightened, hands clasped in front of him.

Loki raised an eyebrow and simply held their cup with both hands. When Thor did not continue, they asked, “What exactly is *this*, Thor?”

“Me trying not to fuck things up.”

Loki's muted laugh was forced, “I think we’re well past that.”

“Look, Lo, I like spending time with you. It’s comfortable, we have fun together. I didn’t realize until today that it could be more than that. I know, I’m an idiot, you’ve told me so before. I don’t know if that possibility is still on the table, but I…” Thor found that he was staring at Loki’s hands, long fingers folded together around the white cup. He lifted his eyes, “But I would like it to be.”

While taking that first sip of their coffee, Loki maintained a stern expression. “But what about our parents, Thor?” 

Thor ducked his head. It was a ridiculous question when he asked it, it was ridiculous to hear it parroted back at him. He drew a breath and gave the answer that he did not know earlier. “Frigga, I expect, will tell us she wants us to be happy.” Loki rolled their eyes. “Father, father will throw a fit. When he’s finished, he’ll have to realize that my entire life is not his to control.”

“And if you are under your own control, what does dating you entail?”

Thor grinned cautiously, “bad movies, video games, the best grilled burger in the nine, vigorous intimate activities,” Loki’s eyes rolled again, “sometimes reminding me that the world is not completely in chaos and...and whatever you want it to involve.”

“And if what I want is bad movies, kicking your ass at MarioKart, my burger with grilled mushrooms and also to never be hidden, to never be lesser?” They kept their gaze firmly locked on Thor. It was the intensity of the Huntress, but this was pure Loki. Thor wondered how he had drawn such a clear separation. There was only Loki. “Fuck Thor, I want to be spoiled and I want the world to know it.” 

How could he not agree? “That can be arranged.”

“Then get your ass over here and kiss me.” 

In two steps, Thor was there, removing the cup from their hands to a side table. In an echo from hours earlier, Thor set a hand to either side of Loki’s face and pulled them closer. Thor tipped his head and parted Loki’s lips with his own. He allowed his tongue to taste them: coffee too sweet upon soft lips, vanilla from the drink or from the gloss he did not know. He wanted to always know how Loki tastes.

Always? He had no more claim on always than he had on tonight, this morning, whatever this was. He studied Loki’s face, a kiss to their cheek, to the tip of their nose. Loki’s laugh seemed more genuine this time, intentionally quiet, but honest and free. Thor wrapped his arms around their shoulders and pulled them in. Loki settled their clasped hands at his lower back. They nudged the tip of that freshly kissed nose against his neck.

“When do I get to try this burger?”

Thor breathed in the coconut from their hair. It was ok. They were both ok. “Today. Or Tomorrow,” Thor shrugged his shoulders, slightly bouncing Loki in their embrace. “I mean, whenever is good for you.”

Loki’s grin was not visible to Thor, but he heard the ghost of a giggle as Loki spoke. “I have class until 6:00 tonight.”

“Then come by afterwards and I’ll make you dinner.” Thor brought his kiss to Loki's cheek and repeated the same on the other side.

“A date then?” Loki smirked.

Thor knew they were mocking him and he answered honestly anyway. “Yes, a date. Though the world won’t see this one.”

Loki pressed to him, a dancer's grace, intentional. “The world does not have to see everything we do.”

Thor groaned and Loki’s kiss swallowed his desire. When they stepped away, Thor leaned towards them, following their withdrawal.

“Oh, baby,” Loki set one hand on his chest. “It is late, or early if you’d rather, and neither of us should stay inside and play all day.” They pressed fingers to his lips then stroked down his beard. “As much as we might want to.” 

They called him baby again. Thor’s smile grew large, no longer just a maniac dancing solo to creak of a swinging heavy bag. Now his guard was down.

And it was ok.

**********  
Thor answered the door in his Sif-approved, very touchable, deep green Henley shirt and a favorite pair of jeans. He had been told that these jeans showcased his assets and green was a color Loki favored. What sent Loki into laughing fits, however, was the the kiss the cook apron.

“If you insist!” Loki wrapped their arms around Thor’s neck and mixed their remaining giggles into little kisses. Thor melted into them. Loki tasted just the right amount of sweet with that hint of vanilla. He let his arms wrap around them, settling one hand on a firm denim-clad cheek. He pulled himself closer. 

When they finally stepped back, Thor ducked his head with a grin. “We don’t have to stand here making out in the hallway. Though if you want...”

Loki huffed and pushed past him, “Smart ass.” They removed their jacket and Thor had no retort. Over jeans that looked painted on, Loki had chosen a white button down that they left open. Underneath was a green and gold lace halter. They tucked their hair behind their ears.

Thor’s first step was like moving against a current and then he could approach. He kissed Loki’s cheek and set their jacket on a chair. “Dinner will be ready soon. Do you want a beer or a coke?”

“Coke is fine. What's Sif up to?”

Thor turned to the fridge, but couldn’t quite hide the tinge of pink in his cheeks. “When I told her you were coming over for a date, she made plans to be gone for the night.” He cleared his throat. “I hope that’s not too weird.”

“That was sweet of her.”

Dinner came and went. Thor had not been quite sure what to expect, but he had been close. Some moments felt comfortable, others so pregnant with possibility that he felt like he had blushed more this evening than he had in a long time. Loki said it made him look adorable. 

**********

“We could watch something,” he calls. 

Loki wraps their arms around his middle after coming up behind him while he was drying his hands. Their breath on his neck is warm. “I don’t think that’s what either of us wants to do right now.”

“Oh?” the squeak that comes out is not what Thor intended, but Loki was kissing his neck. Thor twists around, Loki leaning heavily into him when he mirrors their hold.

“Well, you did promise me more than a fabulous burger.” Loki shifts and Thor’s awareness is drawn to all the spots they are connected and all the spots they are not. Thor kisses them, connecting now with lips and tongue and breath.

Thor pushes off of the counter and Loki moves with him. “Kitchen is not my first choice.”

“So?” They kiss him and take another step backwards. “Where is your first choice?”

Thor walks Loki down the hall and each step comes slowly. Thor only moves when the two can maintain their connection. Though when a nip to his bottom lip makes him groan, Loki turns and presses Thor into the wall. Their hands are under his shirt, fingertips and nails running over his skin. Thor curves into their touch while they swallow his moans. They lift his shirt over his head and place a kiss on his cheek.

Loki walks away, carrying his shirt. Hand on the knob, they look back at him, “I didn’t think the hallway was your destination.” They step into Thor’s room and he finally peels himself from the wall.

Loki drops the Henley on the floor and then their white button down. Thor follows, his belt unhooked and adds his jeans to the pile. He sets his hands on Loki’s as they reach the waist of their undone jeans.

“Please.” He pulls Loki’s wrists up and slides his fingers between denim and lace. “Let me.” He pushes the jeans down, curving fingers over cheeks. His hands slide over their thighs and he begins to crouch. He has to push at the fabric constantly, peeling it from their skin.

Thor takes a knee when they set a hand on his shoulder to step out of the puddled jeans. When he lifts his head, he is facing black lace shorts. The ones he ignored on his way down, now beautifully suspended by a hard cock. He breathes down the length, his hands on Loki’s hips keep them from pressing forward too far.

Standing, Thor hooks the bottom of the halter top with his thumbs. Raising it, he allows his fingers to slide over Loki’s sides and chest. The top bunches and they extend their arms. It only interrupts their kiss for a moment. When Thor reaches their fingers, he drops the top. It tumbles somewhere, but Loki has his wrists and is bringing them down to their hips.

Thor steps forward into their kiss. Loki dances back, following his lead, though quickly their motion is halted by the mattress. Thor is surprised when Loki swings a leg up behind them and crawls backwards pulling him along. He pauses long enough to remove his own shorts.

“And what about these?” Loki slides a thumb under black lace at their left hip, pushing the fabric down.

“Oh, I’ll take care of those too. Lay back.” Thor steals another kiss and gestures to the bed.

Loki complies, their head upon Thor’s pillow. Pulling their hair out from under their shoulders, they prop their head up with their hands folded underneath, elbows splaying wide. Their eyes are glued to Thor. 

He laughs, “so that’s how it is?” Thor sets his hands on Loki’s ankles. He drinks in the expanse of creamy flesh before him, grateful for the bit of laughter that means this is real. This glorious creature, here in his bed is not a dream.

“You said you got this.” The mirth in their voice is slightly betrayed by the widening of their eyes as Thor leans forward. 

Thor runs his finger tips up long legs and climbs half onto the mattress. He presses his lips lightly to their belly, kisses tracing a line just above the edge of lace. He begins to pull the shorts down. New kisses find the bared flesh. Loki’s breath catches. When Thor looks up, he just spies Loki shoving their hands a fraction more behind their head, elbows raising higher. They are failing at maintaining this nonchalance. 

He grins and kisses their hip, laying his cheek against Loki’s length. Loki's cock is trapped within the lace, pulled to the side. Thor grips the sides of the shorts tighter, watching Loki shift. Another kiss at the edge of lace and Thor's chin brushes that trapped hardness again.

Loki’s hands are on his, prying at his fingers. “Set me free, you oaf!” 

Beaming, Thor carefully rolls the lace down. Released, their cock bounces. Thor ignores it to Loki’s groaning and kisses the top of each thigh, lowering the shorts with more kisses receding down their legs. 

With a final kiss to Loki's foot, he looks up to see them light stroking over their length. Thor crawls back up the bed. Kisses land on spots he may have missed. As he gets closer, Loki halts. Thor kisses the back of their stilled hand. 

Thor starts, “I want to taste you.” There are so many things he wants, but he does not continue. One at a time, he will figure out which cravings are a fit with Loki.

They swallow and nod, “then you should.” They slide the back of their hand over his cheek. 

Thor sticks out his tongue and tastes the drop of pre-cum before him. Loki makes a strangled noise that Thor wants to hear again. Thor flattens his tongue and runs it from ridge to tip. Loki’s breaths are audible, punctuated by little squeaks. Thor looks up and with Loki watching him, he follows that connection down, drawing Loki through parted lips. 

Thor moves with his entire body. His whole being knows he is penetrated, his mouth is just the current destination. Soft skin on his lips seems so much firmer as he bumps the back of his throat. He rises and lowers, savoring each taste as it reaches his tongue. His muffled hum of delight has Loki pushing up to meet him. He does it again, tongue and lips accommodating the sudden tensing that exaggerates the curve hitting the roof of his mouth. 

There is a chorus of quiet oh’s that has Thor entranced. He rolls his shoulders and continues, ravenous. Loki calls his name once and goes silent. Thor glances up their arched form. Their head is turned to the side, eyes closed and lips pulled tight. Thor swallows against that delightful desperation, taking in as much of Loki as possible. 

Loki’s lips part and Thor now swallows to keep up with the flood overtaking him. Thor lowers to the mattress, pressing into his own need. He holds the more manageable cock with lips and tongue. Loki only goes partially soft, Thor is fascinated.

“Thor,” it takes a moment for Loki’s hushed voice to register. “Come kiss me.” Loki is running their fingers in his hair. They don’t pull or prod, letting their request be enough.

Thor crawls up Loki with kisses to belly and chest. Loki’s fingers are on his face, his shoulders, his chest. Thor gasps into Loki’s neck when their touch reaches his own neglected cock. He freezes there, just breathing in Loki. Their light touch becomes an embrace encircling him.

“Oh baby,” Loki’s stroke is light. “You’ve been so good to me.” Loki purrs, placing a kiss to Thor’s forehead. “Kiss me and tell me what you need.”

A kiss, he can manage, even if he is shaking to do it. Their tongue licks into him and then they are sucking on his bottom lip, an echoing motion to their hand working his cock. Thor mewls into their shared breath.

“What makes you tremble so?” Loki releases him and Thor whines. Their hands are on his chest, at his sides. “Oh, it’s so much, baby.” Their voice is soft and filled with promise. Thor mumbles his agreement. Loki twists and rolls the two over, laying Thor out on his back. “So good for me. Now I get to take care of you.” They trap Thor’s cock between them as their fingers roam over chest and neck. They caress and cajole, “You are beautiful so worked up.”

Kisses play with his desire, enticing, urging. Thor chases Loki’s lips like they are promises. When Loki nips at his skin again, Thor’s grip digs into their hips and he moans, arching up against them.

“That. That you liked.” Loki pulls up a bit, studying Thor’s expressions. “Now is it just the occasional bite, or is it all sharp things?” They curve their nails into his shoulders and Thor moans again. One hand scrapes down chest and over a dusky nipple, his eyes flutter shut.

“Please!!” Thor pushes up, grinding, seeking. He runs hands over all he can reach, gliding over their neck and spine, following arch over ass cheeks, up their sides. Loki’s curves are muscle and flexibility. Thor has seen it on the dance floor. He thrills to have such strength and grace nestled against him. 

“Please what, baby?” Loki kisses him, swallowing the breath that could have responded. Loki scratches down one side of his chest and writhes with him. And though this torment has been playing with his cravings, Loki’s cock is hard against his own.

Thor breathes, “Please,” needy, wanton, “Fuck me.” Thor tucks into Loki’s neck and sucks at their collarbone.

“Thor.” The honey in their voice has dropped down a few notes. “Thor, baby, that’s what you need?” They quickly shift from straddling him to pushing his thighs up with their knees. “My boy who likes his sweetness sharp, wants to be good and fucked?” Loki’s nails trace faint red lines from chest to abdomen.

Thor gasps at this new arrangement and nods. “Lube is in the drawer.”

Loki drags their thigh over his cock as they reach out. “You didn’t tell me there were options.” Loki selects something from the drawer.

Thor twists up against them, he is familiar with all the toys he owns. “Whatever you want, just,” he grasps Loki’s hip, lightly pulling them back. “Now.”

“Hmmm, out of patience?” Loki slides back over Thor, fiddling with the container. “Today, baby,” they brush the back of their hand over his hard cock. “Today, you get just me.” Their coated fingers brush at his seams, teasing entry, but not going further than caress. “Some other time, I am going to fuck you with that vibrator while I suck you off.” They press in.

Thor writhes, gripping the sheets. “That…will” he stumbles on the words, “ good day.” He pushes eagerly back. 

“There. That’s what you wanted.” Loki coos at him, running nails up the back of his thigh. “Look at you.” Their reverence is quiet, hungry, while they watch Thor rock. “Fucking yourself slick on my hand.” They make a few more quick thrusts before leaving him empty.

Thor stops the whine before it leaves his lips. Loki is glorious before him. Raised up on their knees, their hand slides over their cock with slick. Hair falls on their shoulders and they look down at him through dark lashes, bright spots highlight their cheeks. 

Teasing them both with the barest connection, Loki watches him greedily. Thor rolls to meet them and Loki presses and withdraws, only just opening him. Thor’s cry is ragged when Loki finally begins to fill him. Thor struggles to stay still as Loki sinks into him.

“Breathe, baby,” Loki reminds him, “breathe.” Loki leans over to kiss him. 

Thor draws a breath and swallows that kiss, opening to their tongue between his lips. He presses up and lets the tension spread. They allow him to move as he needs, little kisses points of calm on the tender ache that consumes him.

With a new 'please' as permission, Loki begins to move. Thor rolls with them, an easy back and forth that is bliss. Thor’s second 'please' is more demanding.

Loki snaps their hips forward and Thor yelps. He squirms and cries out, Loki chases these responses. Each yes from Thor brings them in harder. They push his knees wide. “Touch yourself, baby.” Loki insists. “I want to see you cum.” 

Loki is relentless, even as Thor struggles to match their pace. He stutters and stops, fist held just under the head. Splashes land on his abdomen and Loki does not slow. They are pulling him back as they drive forward. Making short, rapid strokes before they join his rapture. Loki cums with an exquisite arch, head thrown back and hips shoved forward, impaling Thor. 

Loki melts back into themselves and allows Thor's legs up. They fold over him, soothing with touches and kisses. Thor wraps them in his arms. Lips part to a blissful kiss. 

“Baby,” the endearment is soothing now, sated. “You are just perfect.”

Perfect is probably too much, but right now Thor agrees. A day ago, he could not have defined the word so well. 

It had been a long 24 hours. Several words now had better definitions. 

Loki touches his cheek. "You're thinking too much. Just kiss me." 

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever have a thought, that just grows, twisting into your brain and it won't let you go? This came from big, twisty dreams: what began as a desire have an irresistible Loki dancing in the club, made me wonder how they got that way. What if Frigga left Odin? What would happen to Thor? What if...Thank you for indulging such a thing.
> 
> As always, your comments are appreciated.


End file.
